


Heather

by nik_nimmi



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Heartbreak, M/M, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, based off of heather by conan gray, but johnny doesnt like him back :(, lmao i made myself sad writing this ;-; i swear i love ten, ten is so sweet and nice, ten likes johnny, this is just sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27439165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nik_nimmi/pseuds/nik_nimmi
Summary: Beautiful, is the only thing Ten can say, alluring. She’s a force of to be reckoned it, a stunning canvas of a person that Ten could never be.It drains his smile, his rapid heartbeat, until all that remains is a sense of loss, a longing inside of him that grieves the absence of the butterflies.They’re not gone; he tells the wounded part of himself, they’ve just learnt when to give up.(Based off of Conan Gray's Heather)
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Heather

And maybe, he should just give up.

He looks at him with kind eyes, a soft smile gracing his face. Ten feels an avalanche of butterflies fly rapid inside of him, heart fluttering as he takes the seat across him. The cafeteria is filled to the brim, but yet these two seats right near the end have always belonged to them. “Is that my sweater?” he asks, laughing. Ten nods, rushing to explain he would return it after running it through the wash, but he gets interrupted with a small chuckle.

“Keep it, it suits you better anyways.”

The words are simple, yet they hold an ocean of meaning. He bites back his smile, head bowed down as he scavenges his salads for traces of fruit. It feels surreal, to have so much attention upon him yet still be needy of more, as the boy opposite him teases his picky taste buds.

They go back and forth, their laughter mingling with one another, a sense of content starting to settle. If he could steal this moment, and place it in a vial of memory, Ten would pay with all the gold that existed in the world. His own smile is radiant, as he feels the sunny weather outside a reflection of himself, of a day so bright and a boy so nice they could keep him happy forever.

But it takes a mere second, and all of it falls away.

It dissolves, little by little, their glances turning to distracted peeks, conversations turning to a sentence then a word, and attention slipping through the gaps by each second. _She_ walks in, and suddenly it is only thing that now matters.

 _Beautiful,_ is the only thing Ten can say, _alluring._ She’s a force of to be reckoned it, a stunning canvas of a person that Ten could never be.

She’s captivating, and that is what the boy in front of him thinks too. Ten watches, as his eyes change from mischief to awe, admiration and maybe even a little bit of _want._ It pricks something, under his ribcage, a piece of splinter stuck out of view. It drains his smile, his rapid heartbeat, until all that remains is a sense of loss, a longing inside of him that grieves the absence of the butterflies.

 _They’re not gone;_ he tells the wounded part of himself, _they’ve just learnt when to give up._

*

They look good together.

Ten watches the two, from his seat on the bleachers. He had come for moral support, but it seemed it was no longer needed. She stepped a little closer, and he leaned in a little lower, curving around one another like two halves of the moon, where one compensated for the lack of the other.

It flames, the feeling that runs through him at the sight. It flames something Ten does not want to confront, does not like to confront. For it was none of their faults, that he had lost his chance, never mind that he stood none to begin with, at least not against the likes of her.

Even now, she stands confident, yet shies away after something he says. Her hands are delicate in their movements, her eyes expressive and big. She’s all that he aspires to be, all that he is not. He cannot bring himself to hate her, to resent her, for she is nothing but a victim of Ten’s own incompetency. She’s kind, Ten thinks, she’s kind, caring and oh so beautiful, from the inside _and_ the out. There was no way he could convince himself to despise her, even if he tried.

So as he pulls her a little closer, and whispers something that makes her giggle, Ten packs his bag, and leaves.

Ten was not one to intrude, not when it was never his place.

*

“You didn’t come to the game?”

“I did…I left after the first half, though. I-uh, I had practice.”

“Oh okay, uh, see you at lunch?”

“Yeah, sure.”

*

Ten doesn’t hate her, nor does he despise her.

But _oh_ , did he wish she had never existed in the first place.

She’s sat across him, her smile a line of pretty pearly teeth, a splash of makeup adorning her face. He’s tempted to ask where she gets all the talent, for it seems there is nothing she's capable of failing at, a contrast to Ten; who falls short at each and every one. They both talk, a lot, a balance so striking between them that Ten has to bite his lip, and divert his attention to his tray of food. The cake looks back at him, a silent comfort, as it notices the tears he pushes back to bay.

They _try,_ of course they do. She more than him at times, the guilt it seems; to have suddenly invaded a space Ten had though only belonged to the two of them. It was in the way hesitance was written all over her, as he beckoned her over, the way her eyes raked over him for a moment before Ten had smiled. There was no flutter, there were no pangs. They were only a sense of death that loomed inside of him, for the butterflies had given up for too long; had started to die, one by one until there would be none left.

But despite their efforts, he feels like a forgotten piece; a misfit in the set the two have become. It hurts him; in a way something hasn’t in a long time, in a way that a friend’s distance feels more wrenching than that of a lover’s. He feels a little nauseous, as she suddenly pecks him on the cheek.

He feels nauseous, and disgusted at himself. She was so bright, so full of life, there was no one more deserving of his attention than her, yet.

Yet, Ten mumbles out an excuse, and spends the rest of the lunch at the library.

*

Ten stops showing up, at lunches.

He, stops asking.

In the end, it is only Ten left with a sinking hole in his chest.

*

“I’ll give it tomorrow, promise!”

“Keep it, it looks better on you anyways.”

Ten turns away, lets the door of the auditorium close behind him. The night is open and empty, not a single star in the sky. The clouds come and go, yet he remains standing. The image of the two giggling into one another, of stealing kisses just before the end of the play, burns itself in his mind. It plays, over and over, distorting until it is all just an illusion, a fantasy he had conjured up.

Ten sits on the steps, uncaring of the immediate chill that climbs its way up his spine. He’d forgotten to bring his coat outside, yet there in not an inch of him that wants to go back in. He feels himself break, feels the iron cast he had though he’d built around his heart start to crack from the pressure. It is only when he the first drops slip from his eyes and bloom on his sleeves, does Ten let it all fall apart.

It’s silent. He’d never been a loud crier, yet the sounds that he does make roar in his ears. It stings, it stings and stings and stings until all he can feel is bitterness, at himself, at him, at her. _Why not me?_ He thinks, _why can’t you like me instead?_

_Why can’t it be me?_

But he already knows. Ten is not her.

Ten is no beacon of light, inviting others to come to his way, stealing the attention wherever he'd go, a beam of spotlight among the darkness. He is no angel, not as kind, not as deserving. Ten is nothing; a nobody in the grand scheme of things.

Ten cries, with nothing but the moon to keep him company, and the sound of his own sniffles and heartbreak. He cries because it feels as though he has lost much more than just a chance, much more than just a lover. He cries because he’s a lost a friend, because he couldn’t do- _be_ better.

Ten is alone, will always be alone, for he is nothing more than a speck of dust in this vast universe. For he could not shine, even amongst the brightest of stars.

**Author's Note:**

> for context, if you didnt get it: the he is johnny aka the crush, and the she is heather, the oc  
> i listened to the song again today and it made me so sad lmao so here you go. I hate writing sad stuff but decided to give it a go this time, life already sucks too much to add more suffering ;-;
> 
> this is definitely not as good as it could be, because i wrote it high off of emotions soooo yeah  
> Please leave a kudo/comment if you liked it! And look forward to resonance pt.2 with johten ;;;;-;;; after so long


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